The sky glows

A dull yellow

Like a far

Off lamp in

A distant home

At the end

Of a wooded

Lane welcoming me

Darkened trees hang

Like spooky goblins

As the cars

Tires kick up

Dusty ghosts that

Disappear among junipers

Dawns single bonfire

Slowly emerges golden

Like a pocket

Watch drawn from

The woolen clouds

And distant bungalow

Windows wink with

Brief lamp light

As neighbors move

About in them

This is morning